Back From The Dead
by moemoexx
Summary: He had been teetering over the edge for months. Depression was slowly consuming him, and it was only a matter of time before he completely broke. And one day, he did just that...


_He had been teetering over the edge for months. Depression was slowly consuming him, and it was only a matter of time before he completely broke. And one day, he did just that... _

Getting out of bed that morning had proved to be difficult, and tackling the shower was another story entirely. Lately, he just hadn't had the energy to do anything but lie about and stare at the ceiling. He had thought his friends to be oblivious, but they were quite the opposite. He never seemed to notice their concerned gazes, or their horrified whispers to each other as they sat at meals together, watching him push his untouched food around his plate. He never seemed to feel them when they tenderly placed a hand on his shoulder, or wrapped their warm arms around him as the sobs took over his body at night. Every morning, the twins approached and carefully asked, "Is our ickle Ronnikins back from the dead yet?" And they'd sadly shake their heads.

As they walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, he turned his red, blood shot eyes to them and said, very quietly, "D'you guys mind if I skipped breakfast this morning? Professor McGonagall asked me to see her in her office. Something important, I reckon, she looked rather upset--" His raven haired friend quickly cut in. "You think something could be wrong? Should we come along?" Hermione said nothing, but eyed him cautiously, as if pondering weather or not accompanying Ron was the best idea; she knew how vulnerable he'd become. To her shock, he weakly nodded and turned towards McGonagall's office.

They didn't speak as they made their way up the stairs, the same question lingering in their minds: **what was going on?**Harry and Hermione threw occasional glances in the ginger haired boy's direction, but as always, he didn't notice. Hermione took a good long look at her best friend. He was pale, and his firey eyes sunk deep into their sockets, as if hiding. Dark rings circled his blue eyes, which seemed to have lost their spark. They were no longer a brilliant blue, but a clouded grey. His once shining hair hung unruly around his face, the curls sweeping his freckled neck. He'd grown thin, too thin, as the famous Ronald Weasley appetite had long since vanished. Harry had told her about the sleepless nights, how he tossed and turned, rolled up in his blankets, his tormented cries breaking the silence of the evening. He had told her how after a long night of crying, he'd rise at the crack of dawn and disappear into the bathroom. Harry'd never found out what went on in there (though he'd swear he could hear his retched vomitting), and Hermione shuddered at the possiblities.

Looking up, Hermione realized that they'd already reached their destination. Ron sighed his now familiar sigh, and hesistantly knocked on the door. The wooden entryway swung open to reveal a rather shaken Minerva McGonagall, and a terrified group of Weasleys. Ron tentatively approached Fred, George, and Ginny, and whispered something inaudible, only to recieve a worried shrug from Fred. George gently asked Ronald how he was doing. The younger boy simply lifted his head, and looked at his brothers with the most wounded, helpless look any of the children had ever seen. The twins leveled themselves with their younger siblings and said, in a unusually comforting tone, "Whatever happens here, we all have to stick together, understand?" " We're family, and if we can't do anything else for each other, this will have to be it." They nodded at Harry and Hermione and whispered, "You too, you know. You too."

Their profressor cleared her throat in effort to get the family's attention. "Please, all of you, take a seat. I'm afraid I have some bad news." They all, apart from Ron, promptly sat in the chairs McGonagall conjured just seconds before. They stared, blank eyed, wondering what could have possibly gone wrong this time. She took a deep breath and spoke.

"Last night, there was an attack. There was an attack on the Burrow," Sharp gasps could be heard from all six kids. "and, oh I'm so terribly sorry, but your mother was killed. As well as your brother Percy." Tears had formed in the ederly woman's eyes, threatening to spill down her wrinkled cheeks.

Each Weasley had a different reaction. George continued to stare down their beloved teacher, whispering softly, "No...no...it can't be...not Mum...Percy.." Tears lined his eyelids. Ginny placed her head in her hands, as her tiny shoulders began to shake. Hermione rushed to comfort her. Ron's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground in a wave of agony. He tore at his hair and punched the ground so that his knuckles bled. He sobs racked his body, much like they did as he lay in bed at night. Harry gingerly wiped his own eyes, watching the heart breaking scene in bewilderment and shock. At once, Fred fell to his own knees, taking Ron in his arms, and pulling him into his lap.

Fred rubbed Ron's back, stroked his head, and rocked the boy slowly back and forth. Rivers were slowly pouring down his face and soaking his little brother's hair. "Oh, Fred..Fred, what are we going to do? Oh God..God I never said goodbye! I never apologized to Percy! Percy...Percy...Oh God, Percy! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..I..I.." Words stopped tumbling from Ron's mouth as the cries took control again. Fred simply shook his head, and clutched his baby brother tighter, not daring to let go.

Had the situation not been such a tragedy, Harry would have found what lay before his eyes rather amusing. Here was a seventeen year old man (Though, could you really call Fred and George Weasley men?), rocking his fifteen year old brother on the stone floor of their professor's chamber. Two brothers, who couldn't spend a day without arguing or playing tricks on each other, now clung to each other with their lives. The Boy Who Lived crept down to his knees and took Ron from Fred. The youngest Weasley boy continued to wail; unaware of the switch.

Fred pattered over to his twin brother and looked him deep in the eyes. Harry always wondered how they did that. George and Fred could always tell what the other needed just by looking him in the eyes. It seemed that what George needed now was a long, consoling embrace. Fred grabbed his partner in crime, his fellow prankster and cut-up, and held him. And they held each other as the tears ran dry.

Without warning, Ron shot up from the ground. He looked around, disheveled and befuddled. Fred and George, who had moved over to soothe their fourteen year old sister, instantly whirled around and looked questioningly at their brother. Harry and Hermione, who'd been sitting next to Ron, lifted their heads. "Who did it?" he inquired, his voice hoarse.

**"Bellatrix. Bellatrix, along with the Malfoys."**

Ron's insides burned. His hair stood on end, and all the muscles in his body tensed. He felt the vermilion color creep from his ears, and over his cheeks. Sweat trickled down his forehead, mixing with his salty tears. The pain that had run through him for so long was instantly replaced with something new. Anger pulsed through his veins. He'd always though that 'seeing red' was just an expression, but now the heated rage was blinding him.

He couldn't take it. Not now; not now when he was so broken. So, he finally did it. At last, Ronald Billius Weasley snapped. He turned and ran. Out the door, down the corridors, past Snape, down the stairs, past the Great Hall, and out into the courtyard.

Something wet landed on his shoulder. Moisture danced across his eye lashes, twirled around his scalp, freezing his fingers. Ron's eyes darted around, unsure of what was falling from the sky. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightening, he understood. Snow. It was snowing.

_It's winter? Since when is it winter? It was September a few days ago! Wasn't it? __Is it December? January? Have I missed Christmastime? Is it Valentine's day? **I'm tired..so tired..**_

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When Ron awoke, the first person he saw was Charlie. Then Bill. Then he noticed his father, Fred, George, and Ginny. A sea of red hair, a sea of sleeping Weasleys. He began to look for Percy, but it all came back to him. His heart fell to his stomach, which he noted was oddly full. He stifled sobs, unsuccessfully. Charlie looked up, and rushed to his brother's bedside. "Ron...Ronald? You're in St. Mungo's. Are you alright? Little bro, can you hear me?"

**"Why the bloody hell am I in St. Mungo's?"**

In an instant, Bill was next to Charlie, taking Ron's hand. "Ron," he began gently, unsure of what to say, "Wednesday, when you ran from McGonagall's office, and went to the courtyard..you...you fainted. Out in the middle of a blizzard. Fred and George looked for hours before finding you buried under a mound of snow." "And what's today, Bill?" "It's..it's Saturday."

A painfully loud silence ensued. By the time Ron finally spoke, everyone had waken up. "Where are Harry and 'Mione?" He longed for his friends, to let them know that he was going to be okay, and that he was sorry for being so stupid and ignorant over the past few months. He needed them. "They've gone to Hermione's for a bit, to rest. Dad nearly had to drag 'em out of here.", Charlie explained. Ron's heart met up with his stomach again. "Oh.."

Another loud silence. Fred leaned over to George and whispered in his ear. A wild grin found it's way to his face. The twins made their way to the foot of Ron's bed, ruffled his hair and cheekily asked, "So, how's about a game of wizard's chess, mate?" As hard as he tried to fight it, Ron smiled. _Smiled_. He loved wizard's chess, it was the only valuable thing Percy'd ever taught him. This was all his mum had ever wanted, the family together. Ron knew that, and he hated to disappoint his dear mother. He sheepishly answered, "You sure you want to get beat by a sick kid?"

**_"Oh, our ickle Ronnikins is back!"_**


End file.
